Free Be Mine Tonight by Kathryn Smith

been hidden have often been hidden for a reason. Do not enter it alone, and please have myself or Chapel with you. I do not wish to sound presumptuous, but he and I know what traps to look for.”
    “Traps?” Marcus hadn’t said anything about traps or such dangers!
    Her dismay must have been evident, because he patted her hand once more. “I’m sure Mr. Grey has done his research into these matters as well, but it would ease my old heart if the two of you would agree to take one of us inside with you.”
    It seemed a small request, and it wasn’t as though Marcus and his men couldn’t overpower the priest, or even Chapel, for that matter, if one of them decided to try stealing the Grail from them.
    “I will discuss it with Mr. Grey, but I see no reason why you should not accompany us, Father.”
    He smiled at her, so sweet and serene it was difficult to suspect him of anything nefarious. “Thank you, my dear. Ah! I see we have reached your roses. Quelle beauté! ”
    He released her to move to the bushes, the joy on his face undeniable as he took in the array of color and blooms. Pru watched him with a smile, but her heart was troubled by the priest’s warning.
    Even more troubling was the realization that if there was any danger awaiting them in the cellar, the man Pru wanted there with her was Chapel.
     
    “How is she?”
    Father Molyneux paused in the act of brushing lint from the back of Chapel’s evening jacket. For some reason the old priest seemed to take pleasure in acting like a valet—or a father.
    “She seemed well, mon ami. Her spirits were high and I saw no sign of illness other than a bit of fatigue.”
    Tugging on his sleeves, Chapel nodded. “Good.” But there was no denying that something hadtruly been wrong with Pru the day she collapsed in front of his door. People didn’t experience pain like that for no reason.
    An illness or affliction would certainly explain her quest for the Grail. For her sake, he hoped that was indeed what she found inside the cellar.
    “What if they find the Holy Grail?”
    Molyneux’s gaze met his in the mirror. His smile was one of patience, the kind given to a curious—but mistaken—child. “The Grail is not there.”
    “How do you know?”
    He shrugged. “I just know. Whatever they find in that cellar, it will not be the Cup of Christ. I only hope it will not be the Blood Grail either.”
    The idea of Prudence believing she had found the cup of life when really it was the cup of damnation was sickening.
    “She must not be allowed to drink from it until we are certain.”
    Molyneux gave his coat one last swipe with the brush. “That goes without saying. It will be your eyes and memory that we trust; mine are not what they once were. You will recognize it, oui ?”
    Chapel stared at himself in the mirror. His countenance no longer unsettled him as much as it once did. This was the face that he had seen for centuries, and it was his.
    “I will recognize it,” he vowed. “As if I could ever forget it.” Every crevice, every imperfection and tarnished inch of that cup was forever ingrained in his memory. His master, his curse, his bane, it was that chalice from which he had willfully drunk.
    Molyneux tugged at the shoulders of Chapel’s coat. The light black wool fit snugly, contrasting sharply with his crisp white shirt and wine-colored cravat. Six centuries ago he never would have dreamed of dressing this way.
    “Miss Ryland believes they will uncover the door to the cellar within the next day or two. I believe a celebration is planned. We must be ready.”
    Chapel turned away from the mirror. “Hopefully I will be able to get inside the night before.”
    “Hope can have nothing to do with it.” Molyneux’s brow creased. “You must get in. We cannot risk Temple being found.”
    “I cannot sense his presence here.”
    “He may be preventing you from doing that as protection.”
    “I suppose.” He knew it could be truth—and that it probably